WaterrrR

Water.

An essential item to survive.

“You’re essential, especially to me.”

The words of an angel.

Is love essential to survive?

Imagine yourself standing on a slab concrete palace with a big ass hole cut in the middle; you’re standing on the edge, but you’re okay with it.

You slip off your beach coverup, robe, or what have you. The garment drops to the ground and your step out of it with your manicured toes. Your legs are not perfectly shaven, but they’re blonde so you can’t really see your hair.

Your sunglasses are on (as always).

You undo your hair from the rubber band that held it and you kinda move your head back and forth, but not too much, because you’re still scared.

Your blonde and beach wavy hair drops to the middle of your back.

You’re ready to jump in.

One by one, your feet slip into the water.

Those were some lucky steps that you graced with your perfect little feet. Those little weblike hands. That perfect little porcelain face.

This is the life of your past time, when you were more similar to me.

At the first, you’re by yourself. Enjoying some alone time, learning to be. Then, others appear along the bank. You see them, they see you, but you’re not really paid attention to. You’re not really seen, yes?

You swim. And swim. And swim. They still aren’t there. You pretend to be a mermaid and you go to the very bottom from the top and you pay attention to every detail of the cement. You remember the vicinity of where the footprints are of your loved ones when the cement was still wet. But do they know? Do they know anything about your past? “Only what you tell them?” a “friend” once told me.

You play it cool (even if that’s not what you normally do especially in an anxiety filled situation). You make excuses for them.

You’re swimming. You’re swimming. You’re swimming. You notice these silver lines along your wrists. Then you notice something attached to them. You can’t really feel they’re there, but you can see them there now. Once was blind, now you can see, yes? Then you notice the chain. That metal chain. Attached to the weight at the bottom of the line. Then you notice the two big balls attached to the line that is attached to your wrist.

You’re swimming. You’re swimming. You see the weights casted around you. By the person who you loves you.

You’re swimming, but the weights are almost nonexistent.

The weights have no weight, but they’re still there.

Only having a small range to swim in. You look down to the chain under water that is attached to the bottom; it is not even anchored to the foundation.

The thing you relied on, the words you held onto. Gone.

The point is, they saw the struggle. They saw that you were uncomfortable in the water and that it was confusing, but they didn’t truly help you. Did they jump in and save you? No. They did, but a half ass way. Is that love? Or at least is that love they’re ready for?

Three Options:

1) They saw you swimming with those chains on. Why would they leave the chains on?

2) They were selfish.

3) They didn’t care enough to see it.

This is what emotional abuse can feel like.

How does that feel?

Broken people do broken things. And that’s okay. A C C O U N T A B I L I T Y. Like Hannah Montana says, “Everyone makes mistakes. Everybody has those days.” I’ve hurt people. Over and over. And over. And I’ve gotten forgiveness and reconciliation with those loved ones, but it doesn’t always happen. And I’ve also loved and lost and not gotten forgiveness. But do you think that if I was not accountable and I just had a narcissistic attitude and sh*t, that that person would’ve just been gone? Yes.

It’s not asking a lot to be treated properly or to be treated well. Remember that.

Jesus broke our chains for us when He died on the cross. Why the hell should we be attached to the chains of a toxic person when the person has not made strides to change but can run their mouth?

Like Katy Perry says in “Roar,” “I guess that I forgot that I had a choice.” Don’t forget, fam.

Xo - A